


Got Milk?

by The_Torturer_Writes



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Lactation Kink, Sexy Charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Torturer_Writes/pseuds/The_Torturer_Writes
Summary: From this prompt: Greetings. Can you indulge us in nipple and/or pussy suction + Charlie? Thank you.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Torturer Tuesdays





	Got Milk?

“Charlie,” you gasped, arching and twisting, “Too much!”

The deep, throaty chuckle came at your belly followed by a nip to the soft flesh. He always made you say his name. With every single sentence. He loved the way it sounded on your lips, he said. 

You swore you felt his warm tongue tip delve into your belly button, but it was an after-thought in the wake of the python at your breast.

“Never.”

Dislodging the little plastic cup from its pump, he gave it a flick just to watch you squirm. You heaved in a breath and looked down at the thing. Your nipple and areola throbbed in time to your thundering heartbeat. You pictured the milk ducts within lengthening, enlarging.

Just like he wanted.

He situated the second cup over your already swollen breast and tipped your chin up to make sure you were ready. He’d spent half an hour sucking and nibbling your breasts before the box even came out of its hiding spot.

You whimpered and bit into your lip because there was no escaping the sting of it. It would hurt. It always hurt, but he said such things and looked at you in such a delicious way that it made it all worth it.

With the pump in his right hand, Charlie dipped his left thumb into your mouth and stroked your tongue and lower lip. It was your magic button, and he knew it. He could turn you into a mindless plaything just by putting something in your mouth. The sounds you offered his stroking finger fed the flames already dancing in his eyes. 

Fully distracted by the sensual thumb fucking and the positively lewd way he was watching you, you forgot what was happening and yelped when the first suctioning pump pulled your flesh into the cup. You tossed your head back and just let your chest heave.

It was pins and needles, tingles and sweat. But it was also a throb in your cunt, a delicious pressure around both nipples. It was just enough bad to make you feel so, so good.

“So fucking pretty,” his fingers raked down your neck, dragging over your pulse before they wrapped around your whole neck and squeezed.

Again, he dislodged the apparatus from the cup and tugged it to make sure it was snug and secure. The arch you rewarded him with this time was pure pleasure. Each time he pulled on or jostled the cups, you squirmed, hips dancing for him.

“We’re gonna have those perfect tits flowing in no time; aren’t we, kitten?”

Rising from his crouch, he dragged you out of the chair by the neck and pulled you in close. The cups crushed against his unyielding chest, and you moaned shamelessly. You let your arms hang to your side because as much as he liked it when you gave him complete control of your body, you lived for it.

Fighting through the full-body thrum and ache, you looked up at him, shivering and ready to beg for anything he wanted to do to you. You bit your lip in just that way he liked, not missing the way his gaze dropped to your pouting, puffy mouth.

“Yes please, Charlie.”

He leaned in to lick your lips apart and nudge your nose with his. His voice was low, honey thick, and velvet smooth. You pressed your thighs together in a desperate attempt to ease the painful, wanting ache in your pussy.

“How long are we up to, hm?”

You squirmed in his grip, knees knocking and fingers curling tight into his sweater. You’d hoped he would let it go tonight, that he would be nice. The insatiable look playing at his features, however, told you it wasn’t a nice kind of night.

“An hour, Charlie.”

It had been a slow process to get this far. You’d worn the cups longer and longer each time; and he’d developed a wicked game to make the most of that time. He was going to torment you, tease you, edge you until you sobbed and begged. 

After that hour, he would fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name. And finally, after you shouted yourself hoarse and soaked his sheets with sweat and slick, when he was ready to let you cum, he’d pop the caps on those cups and let the blood rush back into your abused tits.

You nearly came just from picturing it, but he shook your head to jostle you back into the here and now -- the beginning of the game instead of the end of it.

All so he could train your non-pregnant body to lactate for him, so he could taste something your body had never offered to anyone else.

Pressing a kiss to the very corner of your mouth, he held you loosely, strung taut and ready to strike.

“Say it.”

You gulped, swallowing down lust and any inhibition you had left. You slid your hands to the small of your back, where his larger one was waiting. Crossing them under his grip, you looked up and nodded.

“I’m ready, Charlie.”


End file.
